


save the queen (lord have mercy)

by discombobulation



Series: save the world (a universe at a time) [2]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, American Sign Language, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Incest, Klaus Hargreeves Uses ASL, Klaus has his comic powers, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Phones Exist AU, Sibling Bonding, no beta we die like ben
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-07-12 06:59:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19942087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/discombobulation/pseuds/discombobulation
Summary: maybe having the most dysfunctional family She ever created destined to stop the apocalypse wasn’t Her best idea.(sequel to "stolen valor". not necessary, but will help.)





	1. o Lord, hear my prayers (klaus)

-

As he stares down his client, trying his damnedest to control the urge to wring her neck, Klaus couldn't help but wonder about how drastically his life has changed since being dragged away from the Academy, only really making it as far as he did due to Allison.

Who he was going to be late to escort on the red carpet if Kayla didn't stop complaining about his frankly _gorgeous_ evening gown that he prepared for her.

(Well. Not _exactly_ late; Ben informed him twenty minutes ago that he had five hours and some odd minutes but he always takes at least two just to get clean and relaxed. Klaus already dreads how the night is going to go if he has to rush his entire routine. Screaming reporters and screaming ghosts and lights and all. Its a recipe for relapse, as well as for him to inevitably end up yelling at some poor bastard that really wouldn't deserve it.)

He's been hand-stitching it since she came with the request almost a year ago, and he was being lectured by a ghost with her stomach ripped open the entire time on the proper way to embroider a noble's evening gown and what different colors and patterns meant to different namesakes. He isn't a good student to begin with, and this whole dress took _months_.

"-and the colors are so drab," Kayla sniffs, overly-nasal voice grating on his ears. "Sugar, d'you even know what I wanted?"

Klaus also knows that Kayla is likely fucking with him; she's been a steady client for seven years strong now, and knows what his powers are, though everyone in Hollywood knows by now. Even if he was one of the more mysterious and covered-up of the Academy due to his rather... tragic exit of the Academy, word passes faster than money in the City of Angels. But still; Kayla is going to make him run late if she continues with the faux belligerence and dramatics.

" _Honey, I got what you wanted_ ," he signs and winks, taking one of her gnarled hands and pressing a kiss to it. " _When have I ever disappointed you, momma K?_ " She raises an eyebrow, her face all laugh lines and wrinkles that spoke of a lifetime of love and happiness and, well, living.

She rests a hand on his cheek, eyes fond. "Well, none of your dresses have, that's for certain. You rushing, sugar? I got a little more to talk before I can cast you loose."

" _I don't have much of it, but I always have time to spare for you K_."

"Now I'll be blunt," That makes Klaus giver her an eye-roll; in the entire time that he's known the elderly woman, she has let everyone know what's on her mind and why it's on her mind. She's nicer about it than most people he works with, which he appreciates, but she's never been one for subtlety. "I want you to be my designer for my next movie. My _head_ designer, not just a contributor. I've used your designs with you only getting minor recognition, but I want to advance our professional relationship."

Klaus coughs and chokes, arms flailing wildly as he signs rapidly at her. " _Why would you want me to be in charge of the costume department for any of your movies? I don't even know what kind of film it is yet! Could anybody even understand me_?"

"Sugar," she scoffs, "I clearly misjudged you if you think you need to know what kind of film it is to be able to make the clothes I need you to make. Now listen, 'cause you and I both know I hate repeating myself." She grabs his chin gently and pulls his head down, so it's easier for her to make eye contact. She's short, standing nearly two full heads shorter than Klaus without her mane of her white, natural hair. "I trust in your abilities, and I want to use your abilities to launch us both into the careers we deserve. I'll email you the specifics later, honey. If you really don't want to do this I can't make you, but I don't wanna hear nothing about your ability to do it, you hear?"

He gulps. " _Yes ma'am_."

"I forget how terrifying she is," Ben remarks, floating leisurely as Klaus walks as fast as he can back to his apartment. "She looks so gentle from a distance, and then she opens her mouth and I can't help but think that she's what grandmothers are supposed to be like. Strict and blunt, but will still guard you from most everything." At his lack of response, Ben fully turns towards him, a frown on his lips. "Klaus?"

He jolts, wincing as he signs apologetically, his bag slapping against his thigh. " _Sorry, Benny-boy. Just thinking about what she possibly could want from me_."

"Are you going to say no?" Ben frowns, floating up to avoid phasing through a disgruntled passerby.

" _No it's just... If I agree, then this will be my big break, you know? I'm known in modeling circles and people really seem to enjoy my Halloween spreads and shit but... If I can actually get my name out there for designing, then I could do what I really want in life, without it seeming like a joke, you know_?"

"And you think it's too good to be true, since it's happening to you."

Sometimes, Klaus is so grateful to have Ben with him, to actually be able vocalize the thoughts that he can't explain himself, to understand where he doesn't. It always pokes at the sliver off regret in his mind; his regret over Ben's death, over not being there. He knows that if it wasn't for him and Allison that he wouldn't be here in Hollywood, having an existential crisis over possibly getting his work noticed, and that Ben is happier dead for the mere act of not being under their Father's control anymore. Klaus knows that he misses talking to more than Alli, but with how his powers had progressed in the years since he snuck away from that mansion, it's almost like he never died.

(That still doesn't stop the guilt.

 ~~It never will~~.)

And so, Klaus just nods in response, steadily looking forward than at his brother. He knows that it will probably result in a lecture, and then it'll be brought up to Allison who would bring it up to Bobby, his therapist, and then he'll _really_ have a discussion about self-worth and esteem. He knows the family means well, but feeling that you don't deserve something is completely normal, especially from an upbringing like his. Bobby agrees with him, only for the soul fact that it is true, but there's just more to it that Klaus doesn't want to think about. So, he doesn't.

"I think," Ben says, slow, like he's still putting his thoughts together. "That you think your skills aren't up to par with what Kayla thinks, due to your lack of success at garnering clients to sell your normal clothes to." Klaus nods, weary. "And so you think that if you agree to this movie deal, then people will only flock to you for your historical clothes, and pay no mind to the clothes that you have the most passion for. Am I close?"

Klaus nods. " _All in one, mein bruder_."

"Klaus, can you look at me?" He turns, cocking an eyebrow up at Ben.

" _Yes, Benny-boy, bestest brother ever_?"

"You're an idiot."

-

As he saunters into his own apartment, he almost sags in relief at the smell of still-burning incense. While it isn't a good idea to leave anything burning when he leaves the house, it's calming, and works to mute his powers in ways that makes it so he doesn't have to deal with a budding headache when he goes to bed. Sage and lavender really were a godsend, though he thinks that he might be burning chamomile now. It leaves a taste that coats his throat pleasantly, much nicer than when he tried lemongrass. He left his bag on the couch, moving into the little kitchenette, grinning at the baked goods waiting for him on the counter.

_'Be ready by 6! Eddie will be here at 6:15 sharp._

_-Alli'_

(Sometimes, when he gets really sad and the ghosts are so so loud, he'll ponder how he even got a three bedroom apartment in LA, how he stayed close enough with a sibling to be invited to expensive and known events that he couldn't even imagine.He never even thought that sometimes he would be the one that they wanted at their little events, to fawn and talk and drink while telling him that he's worth the money for the magazines or clothes that he puts out. He knows he's quirky and blatantly queer and a little screwy from the mix of drugs, ADHD, and ghosts; and he never thought that he would even live passed twenty, much less have steady jobs and incomes that allow him to chase what he really wants in life. He doesn't have to use his powers if he doesn't want to, doesn't have to go fight men with guns, doesn't have to be locked in a mausoleum for hours for any offense that he never knew he made. He models, he designs, and he sees Allison daily to bitch over her coworkers and is friends with people who, in a different life, would never give him the time of day unless it was for his body.

He thinks about all these things and while it hurts to remember, he thanks the ghosts that tried killing him because he knows what kind of life he would be living hit they hadn't done that to him. He knows that it wouldn't be a pretty one, wouldn't be a good one. He knows that without them that he wouldn't be living in some cushy apartment in a good neighborhood, working for infamous designers and producers, all who like him for who he is, not for the crime fighting soldier he was raised to be.

He doesn't say this aloud to anyone but Bobby. He knows how sensitive Ben and Allison get about his injury, but despite probably never being able to speak again, he's happier for having the injury than not.)

He grabs one of the cookies, stuffing it into his mouth as he starts playing a song through his speaker, humming along to the rhythm. Ben watches him from his spot on the couch and Klaus waves a hand, Ben growing more solid as he sashays in front of one of the more pristine books in his (Ben's) collection.

"You have four hours," Ben says, grabbing at one of the history books he left laying around earlier, already losing himself in the words. Klaus waves his **Hello** at Ben, eyes still locked on to the dog-eared and stuffed book, post-it notes covered in his scrawl and Ben's cursive falling out of the book. He picks up Extra-Ordinary and traces its cover and author with soft fingers, feelings bubbling up and threatening to go over. He loves his sister, despite her refusal to remain in more contact than a weekly phone-call, but it is hard to remember that he does when the book spits all over it. He could near perfectly recount the foreword in his chapter, all harshness and cruelty that he knows was deserved.

(He does recount it the nights he hears the siren call in his veins, when his ears are ringing from the screaming and his face and throat aches with an injury long healed.

" _Although the one to bring us together when we were children_ ," he would recite, whispering as low as he could without hurting himself, " _Number Four never showed us the same delicacy that he expected of himself. He was selfish, and also the softest of my super-powered siblings. He comforted us after our Father's cruelty and rebelled, but only did so to benefit himself. It's why he and Three got along well, well enough for her to take him with her when she finally fled the house; they both refused to see beyond themselves when it came to how they treated others. We fell into each other's comfort in the absence of Five, but with Six's death he became unreachable for someone who was ordinary like me. He was the best at comfort, but it came with a price that became more and more outrageous the older we got_..."

He tries not to recite it anymore, much less talk about it. It upsets Ben, makes his tummy go all rumbly in ways that it hasn't since his death. He says that she has no right to talk about him that way, that Klaus doesn't have to take being treated like that. But Klaus doesn't push him, doesn't argue when he gets in those moods; he knows that Vanya was just lashing out at them for their childhoods, though it hurts him terribly that she believes that he was just using them. Ben was just reacting to words that he thought were cruel and untrue. He wouldn't tell her it, though, just how badly her words had hurt him, how badly they still do.

He won't tell her much after that betrayal.)

He sighs and sets the book down, hesitant. It's years later, and he still doesn't know how to remedy what he broke, how to fix their relationship. He shrugs, giving the book one last look before turning to the bath. Reminiscing and apologizing into the darkness can wait until after the red carpet premier. Nothing will ruin his night with his busy sister, and maybe he'll even get to see Claire and Patrick at the end of it.

-

Of course, since he wishes for a nice night, Reginald chooses that moment to fuck off into the night and have reporters hound him and Allison while they are ushered away by her team.

Fuck Reginald Hargreeves, he seethes as he packs a bag for their return to hell. He hasn't spoken to his siblings since before his injury, has no idea if they even know that he hasn't been able to speak since before he left into the night with Allison, and he can't imagine how badly the funeral for the old tucker will go.

"Hey," Ben says, lounging comfortably mid-air. "Think of it positively. At least now I'll be able to give them all a piece of my own mind on how badly we've been acting as a family."

" _That means you'll have to criticize me too,_ " Klaus signs, pointing it out. He knows how Ben is though, and he knows that his answer will be amusing at best and embarrassing at worst. Apparently spending time with only one person since your death can lead you to be fairly biased in their favor.

Ben waves his hand. "You've been trying to remain in contact with them for years, so I am absolving you of any punishment. Even Alli will feel my wrath."

" _She won't be happy that you'll do it in front of the family_."

"She needed you to remind her not to rumor her daughter into behaving," Ben reminds him. "I will damn well scold her as much as I need to for her to remember that she's also our sister, not just Number Three." Klaus doesn't bother signing anything in response, hearing the telltale sound of said sister letting herself into his apartment. She walks in, raising a brow.

"You ready, Number Four?"

" _Let's get this shit-show started, Three_ ," he signs back, taking her offered arm as they leave to the waiting chauffer. " _Are we going to take bets on how long it takes for a fight to break out_?"

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heres the anticipated(?) sequel to stolen valor! still working out the finer details of how I want some things to go and how many chapters I think it'll be, as well as I'm also working on a bnha fic, so updates will hopefully be monthly. if I type up these chapters faster than I thought I would, then it'll be twice a month. also, just give me a holler if you don't understand Klaus's job!
> 
> comments and kudos turn me into a giggling schoolgirl!!! ;)


	2. for i am a sinner (vanya)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> righteousness has never been so bittersweet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for depressed thinking (vanya). she is a very tragic character
> 
> **Klaus can talk on the phone because he can whisper loud enough to be heard by the microphone, but not loud enough to be able to speak to a whole group/multiple people/in a busy room! also ben makes an appearance and he's much angrier here than in canon so. warning for swearing!!

-

Everything is bleak and grey when she wakes up; she wonders when it became like that. There are brief, spotty memories of her childhood that are bright. Never colorful, though, unless you count bloodstains and tears and the deep brown of Father's wooden canes. Her mind is hazy as she mechanically takes a pill, just laying there in bed. She feels a deep foreboding pressing on her chest and lungs, and it hurts to breathe. She stares up at the ceiling in a vain attempt to avoid looking at the Book. She knows that if she does, this day will end up being even worse, and she doesn't want to think of that. She doesn't want to drag that bad feeling with her on her errands and practice. She perks up slightly at the thought of practice.

(Vanya Hargreeves wakes up on March 24th, and the timer starts ticking.)

She pulls herself out of bed, keeping her gaze steadily on the ground. She knows the sparse layout of her apartment like the back of her hand. It's hard not to, with being the only person, other than the kids that she teaches, that this place ever sees. Vanya knows it's her fault, that she's the only person that this apartment sees. It's hard not to blame herself though; her siblings never visited _before_ the book, why would they after she released it, even if she thought it would bring angry ex-superheroes ( _child soldiers_ ) to her door to berate her for thinking that her ordinary self thought that she was so much better than them and had the right to publish a book exposing their childhood and treatment of her. The cold shoulder wasn't what she expected; none of her siblings were ones for intentional cold shoulders. Between Klaus, who held grudges but never expressed his pain, or Diego, who made his anger known with lots of knives and lots of insults, and the general self-righteousness that Allison and Luther has always held, she couldn't help but think constantly about how she finally was getting attention but it wasn't the kind that she wanted. She wonders if attention was what she really wanted from publishing the Book.

She wonders if the silence has finally driven her nuts.

(She knows that she deserves it, that she deserves the pain that she caused herself by publishing the Book. She is so desperate, and she knows it's sad, but she keeps expecting Klaus to strut in with all his flamboyancy and love, to look at her with guarded eyes but remind her that he loves her. The phone calls are soothing, but his uncharacteristically quiet voice still sets her on edge. She's gotten used to it, over the years, and sometimes it's even calming, but then she'll be reminded of how loud he used to be and warning bells would go off in her head. The quietness came before the book, and she doesn't understand why. She wonders if he knew.

She wonders why he didn't say anything. Continues not to say anything, but. Well. It's as she said in the Book; he is a good manipulator. If he wasn't already disillusion by Father, she knew that it would've been encouraged and would've made him a favorite. But that's the one thing that always made him better than the rest; even Five and Ben longed for their Father's attention and approval, even if it's for completely different reasons. Klaus never did, always proud of who he was with little need or want to prove himself to someone who he constantly called a bastard.)

Vanya walks to her violin, pulling it up and resting it on her shoulder, and hopes it isn't too early to play.

(The clock ticks on.)

-

She wonders, as she stares up at the sprawling mansion that was never her home, about how was she supposed to feel. Her black clothes felt stiff against her skin, and the air was oppressively thick. She takes a breath and walks up the steps, keeping her eyes downcast. It feels like all that she can do is wonder. Wonder why she wrote the Book, wonder why her siblings never bothered to address the book, wonder why father ruined her life by taking in an ordinary and surrounding her with the unordinary. Why he bothered keeping her around, even when he reminded her how useless she really is.

(She doesn't think of the positive memories she had with her siblings anymore. After the Book, she couldn't anymore. It made her feel guilty, and she didn't have any need to feel guilt. Her words ~~weren't~~ were justified against them. They should've helped her, should've made her feel special, even if it would've been a lie.

She refuses to acknowledge that they did make her feel special no matter what father said.)

Vanya wonders, and the house stands tall before her.

-

"Allison," she says, surprised. Her sister turns and looks at her, and none of the age that is obvious on Vanya is obvious on her sister. She wonders if it would be wrong to ask if she had filler. She stops in front of her sister, and looks her in the eye.

”Hey, sis,” Allison greets.

She doesn't find anything that she would expect in her sister's eyes-there's no hostility, hatred, or disgust from seeing her. There's a wary caution, but she sees love in Allison's eyes. Allison opens her arms, and Vanya surprises herself by leaning in and hugging her sister tightly. She probably holds on for too long; she can't remember the last time that one of her family members had touched her. 

(She does; long before the Book, long before she let what little resentment she felt boiled up into a bubble that exploded in her face.)

Allison pulls away, giving her a kind smile. Vanya already misses her warmth. "Do you want to help me find Klaus?" Allison asks, her expression still kind. Vanya's mouth tastes like ash, but she nods anyways. She was hoping that her sister would just want to talk with her for a little, but somehow Klaus is always brought up. She doesn't protest as Allison wraps one arm around hers, marching upstairs, likely already having an idea of where Klaus could be. She knows that Klaus came with Allison when she left for Hollywood, but she's still surprised that she would risk ruining her reputation by keeping in contact with drug-addicted Klaus, even if he is extremely popular for magazines (she has all his shoots sequestered into a little scrapbook underneath her bed. It has scorch marks from when she nearly burned it after she wrote her book.) and likely be around her daughter. Vanya thinks that mixing Klaus-no filter, shameless, addicted Klaus-near children is just a disaster in the making. But.

They were in the same area, so maybe that's why Allison never bothered getting in contact with her, even when Klaus made the effort to. Klaus told Vanya plenty about Allison, but little about private things. So he probably told Allison little things about Vanya to Allison, as well. She half expected that from Klaus; he never was good at keeping other peoples' secrets.

So she trailed after Three, wilting as she realized Allison was too busy glancing into rooms looking for their brother to even start a conversation with her.

She doesn't know what she would say, anyways.

-

They do eventually find Klaus. What Vanya didn't expect was to see her partially naked brother (save for a skirt and luscious, fluffy fur coat that left his chest partially exposed, no shoes in sight) floating above Luther's head, sticking his tongue out as a misty blue shape hovered next to him, legs crossed as it read a book. Luther looks ashen, and when she looks closer, she knows that she pales as well.

Down Klaus's face and across his throat was a long, puckered scar. The blue mist claps and, in a hauntingly familiar voice, says, "Family meeting. _Now_."

She faints.

-

Vanya wakes up to Klaus' face hovering over hers, brow drawn in concern. She looks to the ground, and sees that he's actually standing now. "Hey," she says weakly, getting a small smile from Klaus. It's guarded and wary; not one of his true smiles that everyone loved when he was younger, that always made him look so pretty and radiant.

"Hey yourself," he whispers directly into her ear, voice nearly unintelligibly quiet, placing a hand on the small of her back to help her sit up. She looks around, seeing Luther sitting in a bar stool, his face still an ashen tone. She is just realizing it, but Luther has gotten huge; muscles bulging and his head nearly laughably small against their broad set.

(He looks so, so uncomfortable and her cold heart aches.)

Allison is sitting on the couch by her feet, watching her and Klaus with a small smile. She startles as she hears a cough and turns, seeing Diego coming down from upstairs. He stops for a moment when he sees her, eyes filled with anger, and he moves his gaze to Klaus, lightening up before he notices what was one of the reasons for her faint; the large, old scar on their brother's throat. He makes an aborted move forward, pauses, then goes to the side of the bar where Luther wasn't sitting. Her gaze follows him, noticing the distinct scar against Diego's own head that looked a few years new. As she follows him, she notices the blue mist standing in the middle of the space. Slowly, it gains more distinct, and she's soon able to see that it is really a _he_ , dressed in a hoodie and jeans, hood covering his face. She doesn't want him to pull the hood back, reveal who she knows it to be.

(She does. She wants to know, wants to know how much she has to apologize to all of their siblings before they stop hating her, treating her like she'll publish another book with all their adult secrets in it. She wouldn't. She ~~would~~ _wouldn't_.)

He tilts his head back as Klaus folds his legs underneath him, falling to the floor elegantly. The hood falls with Klaus. Vanya can't hold back her gasp; Luther and Diego stiffen, and Allison doesn't even react. Vanya glances at her from the corner of her eye. She looks like she has long known about the ghost-that's what it has to be. After all, Ben died years ago, he can't be standing in front of them.

The ghost's head comes down, and he stares down the siblings. His expression is severe; his lips are pursed and his forehead is scrunched together as if he's restraining himself from doing something. She hopes he doesn't speak, doesn't say anything.

"Hello, my siblings," Ben says. "I would say I'm happy to be here, but I'm really, really _not_. In fact, I can reasonably say that I'm pissed the fuck off, at all of you." He pauses. "Except you, Klaus." Ben turns and points at every single one of them, even Allison, who looks deeply offended. "Our father was a shitty person so I would think that we would be able to be slightly less shitty siblings and people, just so that we wouldn’t follow in his footsteps, but turns out that was a fucking lie."

She tries to focus on his words; she knows that he is severely pissed and an angry Ben is a Ben that she would rather try not to instigate, especially if he is able to use the Horrors still (could Klaus summon them and Ben separately? She thinks she just saw rolling underneath Ben's sweatshirt, so she assumes not.) despite being dead. But, Ben. _Ben_.

The brother she loved second most to Five, the one that she could confide all her secrets and fears to without fear of him telling someone (like Klaus would've) or make fun of her (Allison and Luther and Diego) or just brush them off in favor of equations (Five, until he was gone). Now he is back, he's here in person, and she desperately wants to hug him or cry or both. She moves to get up, but Klaus grabs her leg, shaking his head. She sags into the couch, but when she draws her attention back to Ben, she's glad that he stopped her.

"You all are _awful_ people."


End file.
